If everything in this world were likened to a chessboard,
then Shen Yi was the king upon whom victory or defeat depended.
She was not a piece that could be sacrificed, traded, or abandoned for the sake of gaining an advantage.
She was the king.
The single piece whose checkmate would cause the entire game to collapse.
She stood at the center of the board, her translucent outline wavering on the verge of vanishing, while the whole chessboard tilted around her.
Shen Sixing wanted to win this game.
He did not want an ending that was so inexplicable.
He wanted a future.
He wanted happiness within reach.
He did not want to lose.
In this world, obsession was something that truly existed.
Otherwise, Wen Ya would not have been unable to forget Shen Yi for so many years.
But for someone as emotionally detached as Shen Sixing, it was indeed difficult to develop any kind of obsession.
Still, it did not matter. All he had to do from this point on was repeatedly brainwash himself into remembering one thing:
In his next life, he needed to pass by the orphanage where Shen Yi had once stayed as often as possible.
And in the end, no matter what the reason, Shen Yi would choose him to be her father.
Thus began the story of everything.
This was a story of a Möbius loop.
Now, he had to draw the beginning of that story himself.
Shen Sixing sat motionless until dawn, thinking about many things throughout the night.
In the end, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Cold water poured out with a rush, splashing into the white ceramic basin.
He scooped up a handful of water and splashed it over his face.
Then he raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror.
His face was pale to an almost unnatural degree, and his expression was terrible.
He stared at the person in the mirror for a long time, until a thin layer of mist formed across the glass and blurred his features into a hazy mass.
Shen Sixing lifted a hand and wiped away the mist. Looking at his face as it gradually came back into focus, he slowly exhaled.
He pushed open the door and walked into the bedroom.
Wen Ya was already awake, leaning against the headboard as she looked at her phone. When she saw him come in, she raised her head, her gaze falling on his face as her brows drew together slightly.
“What were you doing last night?”
Shen Sixing looked at her. His throat tightened faintly, but he did not answer the question.
He said goodbye to his wife, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “Honey, I need to go home for a while.”
Wen Ya looked puzzled. “What are you going back for?”
Shen Sixing tugged at the corner of his lips and walked over.
He opened his arms and embraced her, resting his chin on the crown of her head. He held her tightly, one arm wrapped around her back and his palm pressed against her shoulder blade, as though he wanted to fold her entire body into his embrace.
“There’s something I need to take care of.”
“It’ll probably be a long time before I come back,” Shen Sixing murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Why?” Wen Ya was trapped in his arms and could barely move. She tilted her face up to look at his chin and gently touched his cheek. “You don’t need to apologize to me. What are you going back to do?”
Shen Sixing did not answer.
He merely lowered his head and kissed her.
The kiss was very light.
He had not shed a single tear, yet she felt as though his entire being had been steeped in sorrow.
Even the kiss tasted unusually bitter.
Wen Ya could tell that something was wrong. She turned his face toward her.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Can you tell me?”
Shen Sixing rested his forehead against her shoulder and remained there for quite some time.
His eyelashes brushed against the skin at the side of her neck. It tickled, carrying with it a faint trace of moisture.
But it was not tears.
He had no intention of crying.
“Not really,” he said. His tone was as light as ever, but his voice was lowered and indistinct, almost impossible to make out.
Wen Ya did not continue pressing him. She only asked, “Will you come back?”
Shen Sixing lifted his face from the hollow of her shoulder.
“If everything is settled,” he said.
Wen Ya genuinely thought he was acting strangely.
In all the years they had been married, he had never behaved like this.
He was saying goodbye for no apparent reason, leaving his words half-spoken and half-withheld, even speaking to her in a tone that suggested he did not know whether they would ever see each other again.
She caught hold of him, raised both hands to cup his face, and pressed her thumbs against his cheekbones with slight force, making him look at her.
“Shen Sixing,” she said, without a trace of reproach in her voice, “whatever happens, you can tell me. I don’t need your protection. That so-called masculine pride of yours, that hero complex—you can keep them to yourself. They mean nothing to me.”
“I know.” Shen Sixing’s voice was gentle, and he did not argue. “Of course you don’t need my protection.”
If everything were likened to a chessboard, Wen Ya would be the most powerful queen on it.
But he would never let her stand on that board.
There were no spectators on a chessboard.
Once someone entered the game, no role was truly capable of winning or losing on its own terms.
The rook could be captured, the knight could be trapped, and even the queen could be driven into a corner before being knocked from the board.
He was terrified that if she stood there too, she would be crushed along with the rest when the pieces came down.
Shen Sixing leaned his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in that narrow space between them. In a low voice, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Wen Ya wrapped her arms around him, her hands circling the back of his neck.
“All right, all right.” She hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. In a quiet voice, she said, “I don’t care what you’re planning to do. Once you succeed, can you come home?”
Shen Sixing gave a soft hum, the last note trembling faintly.
In truth,
even he did not know how much distance lay between the words success and home.
…
Shen Sixing got out of the car at the entrance to the Shen family residence.
The autumn wind swept through the iron gates, sending fallen leaves rolling past his feet.
He stood before the gate he had once walked away from without looking back, overcome by the strange feeling that fate was playing a cruel joke on him.
On the coffee table in the living room sat a Yixing teapot and half a cup of tea that had gone completely cold.
Shen Shu sat in the single armchair opposite it. When he saw Shen Sixing, surprise flashed through his eyes.
Shen Sixing got straight to the point.
“I want to come back.”
“Come back?” Shen Shu raised one brow. He set down the newspaper in his hands and folded it neatly across his knees. “When you left, you made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with the Shen family. And now you’re telling me you want to come back?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I was immature before. From now on, I’ll do everything you ask.” Shen Sixing spoke calmly, his gaze fixed directly on Shen Shu’s impassive face. “I’ll be more qualified than Shen Sigui.”
Suspicion and appraisal flickered in Shen Shu’s eyes.
He could not understand what had suddenly affected Shen Sixing. Someone who had been gone for decades had abruptly returned—it was about as likely as the sun rising in the west.
But now that Shen Sixing had come, Shen Shu naturally had no reason to refuse him.
Shen Sixing was indeed better suited than Shen Sigui to become the one in power.
He was ruthless enough. In his eyes, everyone was without value; they were nothing more than insignificant pieces on a chessboard.
Shen Shu had always known this.
He had simply never imagined that one day Shen Sixing would willingly come back and ask to take that position.
“Why?”
Shen Sixing was silent for a moment.
“I owe someone a great deal,” he said. “I need to repay her somehow.”
He had stolen more than a decade of peace from her.
So he had decided to give her an uncertain future in return.
